by Stacy Finz
And they had absolutely no future together. He’d built a life in Nugget, and she’d destroyed the one she’d had here.
“Morning.” Gabe twisted around in the driver’s seat.
“Have you been there all night?” She rubbed her eyes.
“Here and the water tower. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“I guess I’m pretty shitty on stakeouts.”
He flashed a sexy grin. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“No sign of him, huh?” She figured if the thief had shown up, Gabe would have had him tied up and begging for mercy by now.
“Nope.” He shook his head.
“What if he’s already gotten the gold?” The thought had weighed on her. There was nothing to say that someone else hadn’t succeeded where they’d failed.
Being the naysayer that he was, Gabe huffed out a breath and made that face he always made when she spoke of Levi’s Gold. But their phantom digger confirmed for her that it really did exist. Someone knew she was selling the property and wanted to get the treasure before it was too late.
“He…they…got exactly what you got. Nothing.”
“How do you know that, other than the fact that you don’t believe in the legend?”
“I don’t for sure, but it seems to me that the trench is too shallow and too even. Like whoever dug it knew where he was going and was just getting started.”
“Like he was digging a tunnel?”
“Yeah. I also think we would’ve seen more of a disturbance in the ground, where someone hefted out a box or whatever storage unit was used for the gold.”
For all she knew, Levi had simply buried the nuggets in the raw dirt. Still, for the kind of weight they were talking about, the thief would’ve needed something to transfer it from the ground. A wheelbarrow, wagon, even a backpack. There would’ve been some sort of markings in the dirt. But why hadn’t the thief come back to finish the job?
“Why do you think he didn’t return last night?”
Gabe shrugged. “Too cold, too dark, he had a date. Who knows?”
“He’s got to realize we’re onto him.”
“Another reason he may not have returned.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her eye, the gesture so tender it made her chest squeeze.
“You think he’s gone and not coming back?” she asked, trying not to let him distract her from the conversation.
“I don’t know, Ray. But we can’t surveil the place twenty-four seven.”
“That’s why I’ve got to find the gold today.”
He scrubbed his hand through whiskers that hadn’t been there the day before. “You mind if we shower and eat breakfast first?”
“No, and I have an errand to run.” Not exactly an errand, but she was leaving on Monday and needed to get it done. Sunday she planned to spend teaching Harper how to care for Gunner. Raylene also wanted to take the gelding out for one last ride before she left.
He didn’t ask about her so-called errand, which she was thankful for. Otherwise, he would’ve tried to talk her out of it.
When they got to the farmhouse Gabe dropped her and went home to get a change of clothes. He hadn’t been to his duplex apartment in a few days, and Raylene supposed he had things to catch up on. Still, his absence left her feeling melancholy. Get used to it, she told herself, and made a call to Lucy’s House.
Wanda answered the phone. Like Raylene, she was a volunteer and had graciously taken Raylene’s Saturday shift. Unlike Raylene, Wanda had been married to a wonderful man who’d been killed two years earlier in the line of duty while responding to a domestic violence call. Helping at Lucy’s House had been Wanda’s salvation, something the two women had in common.
“How’s everything going?”
“You tell me, girl. How was the wedding? Any fireworks?” Raylene had given Wanda the entire 4-1-1 on her history in Nugget.
“I got through it unscathed and have lots of pictures of Logan and Annie to show you. That asshole Butch threw me a curve ball with my horse, but I’ll tell you about that when I get home.”
“Ooh, you better. I love me some TAB stories. That man deserves a hot poker up his ass.”
Raylene laughed. Wanda always had the power to make a terrible situation not feel so bad. That’s why the women at Lucy’s House loved her.
“Any changes there?”
Wanda sighed. “Jenny’s waiting to hear on whether any of the grants she applied for will come through, but she isn’t optimistic. A lot of organizations need money, and there’s not a lot of it to go around. What we need is a wealthy benefactor.”
“I’m working on it.” Raylene was no longer wealthy, but two hundred thousand dollars would be enough to hold the non-profit over until they could raise more.
“I know you are, girl. I’d give ’em DeRon’s pension if I didn’t need it to live on.” In Los Angeles, a cop’s pension didn’t go far.
“I got a good offer, Wanda. I just need to close escrow.” She still had to sign the papers. Today, she told herself.
They talked a few minutes longer. Afterward, Raylene climbed in the shower, dressed, and grabbed a quick breakfast. On her way out, she texted Gabe to meet her at the property at noon.
The last time she’d been to Lucky’s ranch, he’d been living in a single-wide trailer, waiting for workers to metamorphose the place into a full-service dude ranch—a cowboy camp, as he called it. She hadn’t believed it possible. Once a church camp, the place had fallen into disrepair. The outbuildings were mostly rotted, the big lodge infested with rodents, and the land strewn with old tractor parts.
Today, it looked completely different. A big ranch gate and sign had been erected at the entrance with Lucky’s brand and “Cowboy Camp” in big letters. Spiffy split-rail fencing stretched around the perimeter of the property and pavers took the place of dirt on the long road to the office and parking lot. All the buildings had new roofs, new siding, and new front porches. Raylene didn’t remember any front porches from before. In the distance, she could see river rock had replaced the crumbling chimney on the big lodge. And rows of corrals, barns, and an arena with metal bleachers now sat where there once was a weathered horse ring and amphitheater.
The trailer was gone, and in its place was a big cabin with a front porch, complete with a row of rocking chairs and an outdoor fireplace made from the same river rock as the lodge’s chimney. A wooden sign on the door said, “Welcome and Check in Here.”
She found a parking space next to a Toyota Prius, took a deep breath, and tried to steady her shaking hands.
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.
This was it. This was the very spot she’d stabbed Lucky in the back.
She slowly got out of her truck and forced herself to take eight long strides to the cabin. There was a young man behind the counter who Raylene didn’t know.
“Howdy, you checking in?” The man craned his neck to look behind her, presumably wondering where her luggage was.
Someone ought to tell him that no one said “howdy” in California.
“No, I’m looking for the Rodriguezes.”
“Sure.” He picked up a cell phone. “You have an appointment?”
“No.”
“Okay. What’s your name and what company are you with?”
Raylene hesitated for a minute. She didn’t want to lie, but she knew if she told the truth Lucky might refuse to see her. “Lucy’s House.”
The guy didn’t seem to notice that she hadn’t given a name—perhaps he thought she was Lucy—and punched in a number. “Hi, someone’s at the front desk from Lucy’s House. Okay, I’ll let her know.” He put down the phone and turned to Raylene. “Someone will be here in a few minutes. Would you like something to drink while you wait?”
He motioned for her to take a seat on one of the big kilim sofas. Whoever decorated the place had serious talent. It was rustic and Western without being Country Bear Jamboree, and despite the soaring ceilings and massive space, the room felt cozy. There was a credenza in the corner with two large coffee urns, a set of ironstone mugs, and a tiered plate of cookies. Raylene smelled hot apple cider coming from a separate dispenser. Navajo rugs covered the wide-plank floors and two Stickley chairs hugged the fireplace, a larger replica of the one outside. She gazed around the room at the pictures of Lucky riding bulls. A couple of his championship buckles had been framed in shadow boxes and hung on the wall, along with a Cowboys and Indians magazine cover that featured Tawny’s custom boots.
A Randy Travis song played in the background, and outside she could see it had started snowing again. During the night they’d gotten an inch or so. Hopefully, they wouldn’t get much more. Otherwise, it would be a bitch for digging.
A couple wandered in out of the cold and fixed themselves each a cup of coffee. They were dressed in Western attire that looked straight off the rack and boots too nice to ride in. They examined the buckles for a few seconds, then seemed to notice her for the first time and smiled.
“Are you going on the ten o’clock trail ride?” the woman asked.
“Uh, no,” Raylene said. “I’m not a guest.”
The woman took a seat on the sofa across from Raylene. “Then you must be a local. We love it here, don’t we, Rob?”
“Yep.” Rob was immersed in reading one of the pamphlets at the desk about things to do in the Sierra.
“We already made a reservation for summer,” she continued. “This time, we’re planning to spend a couple of days at that Victorian hotel in town.”
Raylene nodded, too rattled by nerves to give the woman her full attention. The lady kept up a steady stream of conversation, unaware that Raylene wasn’t really listening.
The door opened and Lucky wiped his boots on the scraper before coming in. He’d caught her off guard the other day when he’d come to yell at her about the motocross park. Now, she took the time to really look at him. He was as gorgeous as ever, maybe even more so. His face had always been arresting, but the years had whittled away his full cheeks, leaving a profile that was raw and rugged and breathtaking. There were a few streaks of silver in his dark hair that hadn’t been there a few years ago. And his body had lost some of its ranginess from his rodeo and PBR days. But what she noticed most was that he looked happy, like a man at the top of his game, blessed with people who loved him.
He scanned the lobby, and his expression went from bright to dark the second he spotted her. To her advantage, he couldn’t banish her from the property in front of his two guests. She rose, calculating how to play this.
“I was hoping you, Tawny, and I could talk.”
He nodded a greeting at the couple, put his hand under Raylene’s elbow, and walked her out of the cabin into the parking lot.
“Before you kick me out, let me say what I’ve come to say.” Step nine out of twelve. She’d already made amends to Logan and to all the others she’d hurt, leaving the Rodriguezes for last. With them, she had the most justice to restore.
“Unless you’re here to tell me you’re not selling to a motocross company, we’ve got nothing to say.”
“Please, Lucky, it won’t take long.”
He dropped his hand and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I’d hoped you’d left by now.”
“I’m leaving Monday. And you’ll never have to see me again, I swear. Just give me a few minutes.”
He looked at his watch. “You’ve got eight seconds.” The length of time a bull rider is required to stay on a bull’s back to receive a score. Basically, a death-defying eternity for a cowboy. She hadn’t missed the reference, or the jibe.
“I had hoped we could do this inside…with Tawny, too.”
“Nope. You’ve just used two of your seconds.”
“I came to make amends,” she said.
He made a bitter sound in his throat that she presumed was supposed to be laughter. “We both know there’s no way you can do that.”
“I can’t undo what I did, but I can own up to every horrible piece of it.” She shuffled her feet. The snow was coming down harder now, and she was so cold her lips were numb.
“How about you make good on your promise to leave Monday, never come back, and we call it amends.” He took her by the arm again and started walking her to her truck.
“I’m sorry, Lucky. What I did to you, Tawny, your mom…I can’t even live with myself it was so awful.”
“Yet here you are…living.”
She flinched. She deserved every drop of his vitriol, and then some. “I’m not asking you to forgive me, and I know I can’t make it right, but I’d like to make restitution.”
She and her sponsor had spent a considerable amount of time deciding what would be appropriate compensation. Money had seemed crass, and anything of her father’s Lucky would spit on. In the end, they’d settled on a generous donation from her property sale proceeds to Lucile Packard Children’s Hospital Stanford in the Rodriguez name. It was the hospital where their daughter, Katie, had been treated for leukemia.
“There’s no restitution in the world that will cover what you did to me…to my whole family.”
She dropped her gaze to the ground. “I understand that, and I’m not trying to buy your forgiveness. I know I can’t have that. This is for me, proof that I’ve changed and the key to my recovery.” And that’s when she knew what she had to do. “You can have my land for two hundred thousand dollars.”
He reeled back as if he wasn’t certain he’d heard her right. “Your land, two hundred thousand dollars?” It was worth over a half a million.
“I’d give it to you for nothing, but the two hundred thousand dollars is already spoken for. You won’t have to worry about Moto Entertainment, and can expand your cowboy camp or raise more stock. Whatever you want to do with it.”
He studied her for a while, and Raylene thought he was trying to decide what her objective was.
“And then you’d feel absolved?” he asked.
She nodded.
He curled his lip, looking as angry as she’d ever seen him. “Then no. I don’t want any part of your recovery gift. Now get the hell off my property and don’t bother any of my family members.”
Raylene left before she was physically escorted away.
* * * *
“You spent all night crammed in your wife’s car and you’re here on a Saturday morning?” Gabe took the liberty of walking into Rhys’ office uninvited, sinking into one of the wing chairs, and stretching out.
“You made me?”
“Hell yeah, I made you. Were you lighting a joint at one in the morning or was that your cell phone?”
“I didn’t see you.”
“Of course you didn’t.” Though Gabe had been sloppy as hell, starting with the fact that he’d spent much of the night rocking his SUV naked with Raylene. “You think they’re gone?”
Rhys made a rim shot off the garbage pail with a Nerf ball. “Don’t know, but there haven’t been any sightings of late. Though it seems highly unlikely they’d leave before tearing that property apart if the gold is what they came for.”
“What other reason would they have?” It wasn’t as if Nugget was a major attraction off the interstate.
“Don’t know that either. Best working theory is that they caught wind that Raylene was selling the place and wanted to get in before the new owners break ground. It’s not like Levi’s Gold is a big secret, even if the story is a ridiculous fable.”
Gabe tilted his head from side to side.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, don’t tell me she’s got you believing it.”
“Watch yourself.” Rhys got up to dig his ball out of the trash. “If any of them had anything to do with that home invasion killing in Utah, they’re dangerous.”
“I will, but I think they’re gone. My guess is they realized how difficult it is digging that rocky soil, didn’t like camping in the cold, and decided to call it quits. Otherwise someone would’ve seen them by now.”
“Could be, but don’t lower your guard.”
“Never do.”
“So where were you, anyway?”
“Last night?” Gabe stifled a grin. “I’m like a ghost, dude. And if I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
Rhys shook his head. “Save it for Owen. Were you up on the water tower?”
“Did you see me up on the water tower?”
Rhys threw the Nerf ball at Gabe. “Go dig up Levi’s nonexistent gold. The sooner Raylene leaves, the sooner I can cross off quelling a riot from my to-do list.”
“If they don’t want her to sell to those motocross people, they should buy it themselves.” Enough was enough. She wasn’t selling to spite anyone; the money from the property was her only livelihood.
“As the police chief, I’m staying out of it, though having motorcycles speed around a track all day is going to wreak havoc on my family’s quality of life, not to mention our property values. I’m just on the other side of McCreedy Ranch, if you remember?”
Gabe knew, and sympathized with all of them. “Hopefully the city will stop it from happening.”
“I wouldn’t bet your money on it. Revenue for the city is a hard thing to turn down just because a few nimbies are complaining.”
“You mean some of the most influential residents in the community.” Gabe hitched his brows in challenge.